


Something Meaningful

by geckoholic



Category: Z Nation (TV)
Genre: Gen, Nature, Slice of Life, Stolen Moments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-31 00:23:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20106094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geckoholic/pseuds/geckoholic
Summary: A quiet moment after a couple of harsh days.





	Something Meaningful

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DesertScribe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesertScribe/gifts).

Her have been blood-soaked for days, caked with the rotten and gory remains of countless Z's. Her skin itches. Warren knows that she stinks; they all do. Deep in the wilderness, things such as a shower or fresh clothes are nothing more than a faraway dream. 

At least things seem quiet now. They reached a little forest, a creak leading through the middle, and while another night in the car is a rather uncomfortable prospect, at least they can take a little bath and wash the worst of the gore out of their clothes. It could be worse. They could be stuck in a desert or something. 

They wash in groups, separated by gender, so it's her and Addy for the first group. Shame is a luxury that went out of the window a good long while ago, and Warren doesn't really mind anymore. Their clothes are already drying on nearby large stones. The water reaches up to their calves, and they're both squatting, cupping water in their hands and splashing themselves. A few resilient birds are singing in the trees above, and there's a slight breeze that carries the smell of trees and moss their way. The sun is strong enough that she can feel it tickling her skin, but not yet strong enough to cause sunburn if they stay here a little longer than necessary. 

In another lifetime, she might have called this _peaceful_. 

Beside her, Addy giggles, and Warren turns her head to see what has her friend so amused. Addy holds up her hands, cupped together, and it takes Warren a moment to see what she's showing her: a small fish that she caught, unintentionally, as she was washing herself. It swims around hectically in her palm, and Addy coos, setting her hands down and releasing it back into the water. 

Warren follows her motion, and now that she's paying attention, she can see that it's part of a whole little kindergarten of tiny fish, rushing around their feet. Her practical side bemoans the fact that they're far too small to hunt and eat, but Warren shushes it, instead enjoying the little hints of nature recovering that's all around them, here. The birds, the fish. The flowers that line the bed of the creek, the rich growth further into the forest. Mankind might be doomed, but the world can go on without them, and somehow the reminder is soothing. 

A rustle in the shrubbery has them both look up sharply, and on autopilot, Warren feels around for a large stone, something she can throw at any Z's that might have caught up with them. She glances at her weapons, laid out by the stones with their clothes, and calculates how much time it'll take to lunge for them, and if it's smarter to abandon the idea of stone-throwing and make a run for them right away. She looks at Addy and gives her a few quick signs with looks and gestures, and Addy nods. They both pick up fitting stones, readying themselves for a sprint, and – 

The shrubbery parts to reveal the head and neck of a young fawn, and it freezes when it sees them, its ears twitching nervously while it stares at them. After a moment, it turns, diverting its attention to a patch of long grass, one ear still turned their way but apparently having decided that they're no immediate threat. 

Warren and Addy look at each other. They both burst out laughing at the same time, but try to stifle their outburst when the fawn rears its head and glances their way again. 

Peaceful, indeed. Not something they're used to anymore, surely, but a nice change of pace for once.


End file.
